The Coldest Heart of All
by Cee Marie
Summary: Loki has been lost to the stars. The whole kingdom mourns, but does anyone truly pain for his loss? Sif doesn't know. Part of her feels...something. But what? Unknown to her, Sif has a shadow.


**I seem to be writing a lot of Loki centered fan fiction. Well he ****_is _****one of my favorite characters ever. lol**

**I ship Loki with two people, Sigyn and Sif. So I write different fics for both pairings. I just can't choose which I like better! And here, we have a Loki/Sif. So please, even if you aren't a Loki/Sif shipper, enjoy! (and review)**

_"What am I?" He had asked. He asked himself still. But he knew the answer. Everything around him hurt. As did everything in him. His heart hurt most of all. But what heart was left? It was a gaping, bleeding wound. A wound torn open by those he once loved._

_"What was he?" He was alone. Banished by his own hand, in a realm unknown. Lost in the cosmos. _

_He stayed there, alone, plotting revenge. Revenge on his brother, on his father, and his home, on those who he had once called friends. Revenge for their betrayal._

_"Who was he?" We was not Odinson, nor was he Laufeyson. He was Loki, and Loki alone. Not of Asgard or Jotunheim or any other realm. He was his own. He was Loki._

All of Asgard mourned. The royal family most of all. Dread fell over the City Eternal, for the bifrost was lost. An age-old prophecy told that the destruction of the bifrost marked the beginning of the end of the gods.

Asgard mourned because their king and queen mourned. They felt no sorrow for the lost prince. The shadow.

Thor mourned for his earth woman. This Jane Foster who had stolen his heart in just three days time. It was his sacrifice of his Jane that saved the savage realm of Jotunheim. He wept for his brother, of course, but it was Jane he missed the most. It is no easy thing to miss a shadow once the dawn has come.

Odin felt rage. He was angry at himself for it was his fault that the second son had turned on them. It was his doing that led to the brifrost's destruction. But he felt little loss for his son.

Frigga wept. She missed him most of all. Mother and son were the closest. It was she who brushed his raven black hair in the morn and whispered tales of adventure when he was just a toddler. She who comforted him from bad dreams. She who taught him to read and helped forage his great love of books. It was she who would listen to him go on and on of his lessons. No one else seemed to be able to bear his endless talk of mathematics and history and science. How the queen had wept at the loss of her little raven.

The warriors three, his closest (and truth be told his only) friends missed him dearly. But how odd he had been in those last days. It was as if he had become a different person altogether. It was hard to mourn someone you didn't know.

And Sif. Dear Sif. She did not know what to feel. She was sad, but she was not sure why. Did she mourn him? How could she not when the whole kingdom did? Did she feel sorry for her king and queen for their loss? Of course. But did she miss him? That, she did not know.

There were whispers of what happened on the rainbow bridge. Some said that the bifrost had not gone out of control, that it was not an accident. Some said it actually was to destroy Jotunheim. And was that a bad thing? To rid themselves of those monsters?

Too, some said it was Loki's doing, to turn the bifrost on the frozen realm. Instead of trying to help Thor destroy the out of control bridge, he had fought him, tried to stop him, kill him. Few said this though, for fear of Heimdal. But many thought it.

And what of the Jotun king? He had found his way into Asgard. Who could have brought him to kill Odin? Many said it was Loki. Loki the wayward king.

And had he fell? Or did he jump? Did Loki, the shadow, give himself to death freely?

Many asked, but the royal family gave few answers.

_All he could feel was cold. He usually liked cold. It was where he felt alive. But this cold was different. This cold was alone. He was alone. He always had been. He always would be._

Sif left her chambers in a hurry. She had to move. Had to _act. _With Asgard standing still in it's sadness, she had do something, else she would go mad.

So that was how she had found her way to the sparring ground. There was no one there.

'Fine.' She thought to herself. 'I will simply have to make my own opponent.'

In one corner was a sparing dummy. There she unleashed her fury. She hacked and stabbed the stuffed creature. She danced around it as if it were a real enemy.

She stilled. It wasn't enough. It didn't seem right. She needed something real.

At that time she saw Fandral come by, leading a pretty brunette by the arm.

"Fandral!" She called to him. He looked of from his conversation. "I need something to stick my blade into. Come spar." He made a face at her.

"That is unless you're afraid you will be humiliated in front of you lady friend."

His face reddened. The brunette smiled, urging him on.

"Are you afraid you'll be beaten my a woman?"

"Fine Sif! Fine!" He rose his arms in defeat. Fandral entered the ring, drawing his sword. The brunette took a seat just outside.

For a moment they just stood, watching each other. Sif counted each breath. Her body tensed.

Fandral, his date watching wide eyed, charged.

Sif smiled. Exactly what she wanted.

She countered his blow easily. Fandral was of course distracted by his date. Sif used that against him.

She spun and danced around him. Her body was fluid, as it she were made of water. Fandral could not keep up. He was forced on the defense. All he could do was block.

Sif moved faster, though she didn't need to. She fought with speed and elegance. This dance, it was not meant for Fandral. She moved too quick. It was meant for someone even faster that she. Someone who excelled at hand-to-hand. Someone who fought dirty.

Before her eyes, Fandral seemed to change. His hair darkened. His facial hair vanished. His eyes shown green. The blood fled his face.

"Loki." She whispered.

With a mighty shove she was on her back, a sword on her neck. But he never fought with swords.

Sif looked up. It was Fandral, blue eyed, blond haired.

The brunette was clapping behind them. Fandral bowed to her and winked.

Then he gave Sif his hand and pulled he up.

"I thought you were trying to kill me!" He said.

She gave him a sly smile. "Maybe I was."

"You bluff." But he sounded uneasy. He knew that she could.

"What happened to you out there?" He asked.

Sif looked down at her boots. "I don't know. Just tired I guess."

The brunette came and took Fandral's arm. "Well, my love, it seems I have bested the Lady Sif! Let us go celebrate. I believe there is a bottle of wine with our name on it."

And the two were off.

Sif rolled her eyes. Fandral, the lady's man.

A breeze blew over her. She felt extremely cold, even though she was sweaty and the stone under her feat burned as if on fire. It should not be cold in the summer months, she thought. And yet it was.

Sif walked back to the palace, unaware of the raven that watched her go.


End file.
